Celluloid
by schizometriclanguage
Summary: Umeda knows what his life would look like on screen; a bad melodrama where the audience screams the obvious answers to you but you can't hear them. But he can't prevent that from happening, despite the guards he has on his affections. So things go on, and


They were close, it was clear, ever since that night, but it'd never gone any further. It'd never gone where he'd wanted it to; where he still wanted it to. Ryouichi was too mysterious to give him any clues of what he thought of it, too secretive, maybe too self-involved. In all the years since it'd happened, Umeda hadn't really heard about him 'being' with anyone. It was entirely possible that he didn't 'need' someone to be there and only needed to know that they were there if he wanted them. It was the worst case scenario Umeda could think of, and it was the one that made him feel hopeless because it was in all likelihood the correct one. He'd been led on long enough to know that; he wasn't stupid.

Or at least, not when it came to recognizing the truth. Ignoring the truth however, he was much better at that. But that wasn't the truth; he always knew what he was doing with the truth, so it wasn't denial. He didn't do denial -why should he?- he just made decisions that lead him away from what he feared. Avoidance of truths the he knew to be there. That's what he was the best at.

For as long as he'd wanted to know Ryoichi, he'd really come no closer to achieving that goal as he had since he'd set out to solve it, but he avoided that small hitch like the plague. He circumvented it at every opportunity, in the hope that by pure determination, he'd get through to Ryouichi. But it'd gotten to the point, a long time ago, where he'd sacrificed what he wanted to simply near him. He wouldn't ever succeed in finding the things he wanted to about Ryouichi; never get what he set out to solve and take for his own.

But he never 'set out' to solve it; it was compulsion, _desire_, lust. Those were the things that had led him to do and say things to try and draw Ryoichi out. Things that'd never worked and never left him satisfied. It'd never stop, so long as Ryouichi kept him at that distance so effectively. Umeda'd still never seen that part of Ryouichi he'd seen with Masato, not in the direction he wanted it. But even if he had, or even if it was still to come, he knew that it wasn't going to be the end of it. It'd get worse, it'd suffocate him, and he wouldn't know what to do.

It was better that they didn't see each other often, but in all the time in between, everyone and everything that happened, didn't seem very important. No one was filling the space, no one was as interesting. It didn't matter when they used each other, benefit outweighing the damage. Relationships that was always easy to leave and was safe for everyone involved. After it was over, there might be some lingering feelings of missed familiarity, but that was easily enough filled by someone else. Just space and the reminder that someone else was breathing was what they served each other as. No one to fill the real desire, just...distractions. It was a way to get by.

Umeda filled his lungs with the sting of smoke, looking over the half filled cardboard boxes sitting on the floor, wondering why he'd let the college student move in with him in the first place. He knew it was going to end like this, with worried contents and no proper place for the kid to go. He nudged the box with his foot, hoping that it'd all be out of his way soon. The kid said he'd finish tonight, and then he'd go move in with a friend. In response Umeda made plans to go out, find someone new, even if it was just for the night. Get it out of his system. Was he supposed to convince the brat to stay instead? He went into this bedroom and started moving hangers in the closet, opening drawers, finding something to wear. It was a process as mechanical as his revolving door of partners.

He shouldn't have kicked the kid out like that, but it was too late now. He wasn't going to ask him to stay, knowing he'd only do the same things over again. There wasn't anything he could do to change about how he spoke whatever first came to mind without evaluating the ramifications if he said it when he should have said nothing and let the moment pass. If he could control his irritations, he might have asked the kid to stay. Maybe. Probably not.

It wasn't the kid; it was definitely him. He did it with everyone. He'd let them get up to a certain point (and this kid was the one who'd gotten the closest in a while) but then he'd cut himself off, without ever even meaning too. It just _happened._ There were things he wouldn't expect them to understand. There were things they'd do that he knew shouldn't bother him so much, but they _did._ Simple things too, maybe something as minor as not cleaning up after themselves after studying, or a habit of leaving books out on the table, or it could be that they didn't hang the towels tidily enough. Stupid, insignificant and innocuous habits that eventually brought him to a boiling point. Of course, noticing these habits were just excuses.

But this kid, he'd been perfect in his behaviour. They hadn't been in servitude of one another, instead living with a balance that came naturally. He hadn't been expected to change. Things felt _good._ Even the scathing comments didn't bother the kid. That's what did most people in. But him, he just smiled and replied back with his own. It was that smile that'd gotten him in so close. A smile was all it'd taken to stun him into letting him close. One damn smile, too similar to one he remembered.

But he shouldn't be messing around with kids.

He tossed an outfit onto the bed, one he knew was sufficient from the robotic decisions that came with knowing Io. He'd never admit it to anyone, but his sisters rampages through malls and shopping districts were where he'd learned fashion (and been experimented on), one thing he would admit to being grateful to her for. It wasn't a small thing, as frivolous as one could argue fashion to be, but those days as her pack horse and trying on the endless outfits she'd picked out for him had paid off. He never felt like a slob, and believed entirely that a good outfit gave him no reason for any deficiency in confidence. That confidence, he'd admit though, got him into trouble from time to time.

Without realizing it, he'd ignored his own plan of leaving the place for the night (and it would be for the entirety of the night) and was folding the kid's clothes from the closet and putting them neatly into a box. He frowned; he couldn't do that, pathetic apologies like trying to ease the transition by helping. If he did that, the brat would never learn to avoid people like him. It wasn't his place to condemn him to something like that. He pulled out the clothes and put them back in their place, changed his own, and left.

* * *

When he came in to get changed for work, the kid was gone, just like he said he'd be. Everything was arranged to look as though he'd never been there at all. It was how it was and he wouldn't lift a finger to bring it back again. That story was over and he'd just wait for the next one.

It wasn't long for something new to begin; Akiha had come back into the picture. Forced himself in, was more like. It was exactly how Umeda remembered him to be; overbearing, flamboyant and unfettered by every rejection and callous comment flung into his face.

Umeda saw the parallels, he knew the obsession in other forms that he'd practiced himself. Akiha saw something, but he didn't understand it, and yet it was compelling enough to keep drawing him back. The way it'd been with Ryouichi. It was merely personalities that made the difference. Akiha would be who he was, and being who Umeda was, he'd resist. He didn't like to see himself like that.

But if was simply personalities that made the difference, it also potentially made the outcome entirely different as well. That made it a new situation. It made it something that Umeda did not know how to react to. That made resisting it so much easier; the default emotion. It was much easier to reflexively say no, to tense up his body at the touch, and to react in violent embarrassment each time someone caught him in a moment of weakness as everything broke down. And the more often he was around Akiha, the more often things broke in the facade; Akiha learned quickly.

It was more than knowing the right place to put a hand, or to thieve away a kiss. It wasn't always about trying to make Umeda happy. What it was, was that Akiha knew where to put the scathing remarks. The kind that stuck in his mind no matter how much time passed, even if they were barely whispered in his ear. It rarely happened because it rarely need to. Akiha had a high tolerance, but he had his own lines, and he let Umeda know when they'd been crossed. And yet, he'd always come back again, even though he knew that Umeda was not a good person. It was possible that Akiha thought that good, polite people were excruciating to be around too and what made it easy to come back every time.

Good people like Ashiya, who were too naïve still, people like many of the brats at the school. They were the worst kind of people to be around when you knew too much about yourself. He didn't hate them for it; they'd learn their own sordid affairs soon enough, make enough mistakes to find out who they really were. But as they were now, it was difficult to be around them, being reminded about who you were and where you'd started. The mere existence of their naivety was enough to remind that him about every cruelty and every mistake he'd gone through and inflicted upon others. He didn't want to go back and change it, but it didn't alter how things had felt at the time or his confusion at what he should regret and what he shouldn't, or, if he should regret anything at all. It was easier to regret everything, and he'd taken it upon himself to regret nothing as some test of his character.

But there were still moments of weakness.

* * *

Kujo sighed at the sound of a satisfying crack, and Umeda held it for a moment longer before letting him go.

"Better?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe and lighting a cigarette. Kujo didn't speak but nodded his head, and rolled out a crick in his neck. When he'd finished that, he smiled in that spooky way that unnerved Umeda enough to notice it, but not enough to show it and let Kujo know just how much it affected him.

"Thank-you, sensei," he said. The boy took his shirt and began to button it up with a slow deliberation, eyes never leaving Umeda's face. Nothing seemed to perturb him, even as Umeda was staring. There was a rule however, because it'd be a stupid rule not to follow; Umeda flatly refused any of the boys who'd confessed to him. Most of them, from what he could tell, weren't even attracted to men, and it seemed to suggest that perhaps there should be more co-ed events to at least sort out the confusion. And most of them, Umeda had absolutely no interest in even glancing at. But knew full well what he was doing, and taunted Umeda with it. He rarely said anything beyond a short commentary, knowing the measure of a few well placed words instead of the verbose explanations that explained nothing. He was arrogant with this ability, and no one would deny that. Aloof arrogance had a way of attracting Umeda, and somehow, Kujo had discovered that and exploited it. Umeda was certain that Kujo didn't 'love' him. He was playing the game, merely entertained with the idea that he was making someone squirm. If Umeda let him, he wouldn't say no, but it wasn't the goal. Kujo liked to mess with people. It's what he did as easily as Umeda insulted, simply a natural reflex.

It was _spooky._ Umeda had no intention of messing back with him. Better to act oblivious, or even better, like he didn't care, even if both of them knew otherwise. Umeda went to his desk. And people thought that Kayashima was scary; Kujo definitely had a more frightening additional sense of what was happening around him.

Someone knocked at the door, but came in before Umeda could answer, which meant that it was Akiha.

"Umeda-sen-- ah. Busy?"

Umeda ground his teeth, knowing what it looked like and knew that Kujo would be making no effort to alter the scenes appearance as he finished buttoning his shirt. It looked as though they'd been 'busy'.

"Chiropractics," Umeda informed through his teeth.

"Mm hm," he heard Akiha hum as he wrapped his arms over his shoulders in childish possession. Umeda could imagine the look Akiha was giving Kujo. "Better be."

Kujo left without saying anything, offering a serene smile to them on his way out. Getting him into these scenes like that without correcting things; Umeda admired the audacity. He'd never play the game though. There were principals to be kept. When in doubt, like with Kujo where the lines blurred, it only affirmed how important those principals were.

"What a scary guy," Akiha commented lightly, making himself at home and sitting on Umeda's desk. So far, Umeda had made no effort whatsoever to even look at him.

"Do you have plans tonight?" Akiha asked. He'd taken an elastic band from the table, twirling it between his fingers absently.

"Not with you."

"Then with whom?"

"None of your business."

* * *

Of course, he hadn't had plans at all, with anyone, and Akiha knew from the beginning. They weren't going out; Akiha invited himself in instead. When he knocked on the door, Umeda could have ignored him, or he could have sent him away, but instead he compliantly opened it. He did want the company, but he wouldn't verbally admit it. As much as he pushed people away, Umeda did not like to be alone. Maybe that's why he'd let the kid move in.

He mentally crushed the thought underfoot. It was over with. Done, moving on.

Umeda moved back to the kitchen where he'd been making dinner. He'd even made it for two, even after considering that maybe it wasn't a good idea to indulge Akiha at all. But it didn't take much effort anyways, and it was relaxing to be cooking for two. Even if the guest was someone like Akiha.

"I brought dessert," Akiha said. He set the package down on the counter and opened the fridge to pull himself out a can of beer.

"I don't like dessert."

"Which is why you'll eat more dinner than dessert and I'll eat more dessert than dinner."

"Have you heard anything I've ever said about your eating habits?"

It would be better to say nothing. He was too indulgent.

"Crash and burn. Like putting jet fuel in a Volkswagen. I knew you cared," Akiha said brightly, beaming at him as he leaned over the breakfast counter to watch Umeda cook. It frighteningly domestic, but Umeda could stand it when he thought of his parents cooking together. That was beyond terrifying; they operated like a two separate entities but in a single unit, perfectly choreographed in an efficient synchronicity. He stamped out that thought too and didn't open his mouth again, except to dish out insults.

* * *

Ryouichi called. "We should go out for a drink". Of course, he'd immediately answered with 'where?" instead of a 'why?' or even better, a 'no'. Once it'd tumbled out of his mouth he could have throttled himself for it. Why put himself through the social agony? It'd been long enough that he should have just written Ryouichi off, not indulge a hopeless desire for something _more_ from something that never was. The rage burned at the back of his throat, but he didn't pick up the phone to call back and say that he was busy, or that he didn't want to see him.

But he did keep thinking about it.

And then _he_ called, and said that _he_ couldn't make it. It would have been the perfect opportunity, especially since he'd made such a point of making sure that Ryouichi really did have the time to see him, to get angry, to shout, to cut him off and out of his life forever. But he still couldn't. He agreed again to see him, a different time, further away. It wasn't that far, but spending several days in the anticipation for one night did not bode well for his mood and anyone who stumbled across it until that time. It was illogical, how Ryouichi so easily instigated feelings of hate, anger and sadness in their most primal forms and yet it never drove him off the way it should have.

He purposely showed up late, by ten minutes. He often did that when it was for informal meetings, so that he wouldn't have to wait for the other person. It didn't matter this time though; Ryouichi still hadn't shown up even with Umeda's strategic placing of time.

It crossed his mind that maybe Ryouichi had forgotten, or that he was purposefully not showing up. It didn't matter what the reason was however, the waiting was torture, and forced his mind into thinking how he'd gotten to that space in the first place. _"That was payback for yesterday."_ It felt like the 'payback' was going on forever. Umeda knew that he was frowning, feeling its pronounced presence on his face. Would Ryouichi ever stop affecting him this way?

_No, he won't._

It was bad enough that they'd had to reschedule. He'd been looking forward to it, with that sick anticipation; the same anticipation that he always had to force down with it came to Ryouichi. He was always let down by it, but even with that knowledge, when even the suggestion of seeing him again came up, it was there as though it'd never left. It made him feel like an imbecile and as though he hadn't progressed from the emotional capacity he'd had as a high school student. It was as though he'd forfeited his control for a prize that didn't match up in value.

_Don't be overdramatic_, he reminded himself, smoothing out his expression.

He tried not to look too relieved when Ryouichi finally did come in and it was like nothing had changed. Intimate, but ultimately leaving him feeling drained and empty.

* * *

It might have been wise to inform Ryouichi that it'd been the last time they'd ever see each other again, but that wasn't what he'd wanted so he didn't say anything conclusive. He just agreed to another ambiguous time to meet again. So be it. He wasn't going to think about it when he didn't have to.

Of course, he could hardly think at all when Akiha was around. Maybe his mother gave him too much Ritalin as a kid, or something. Or he might have had shock therapy like that guy in that movie, _Velvet Goldmine._ The guy's energy was overwhelming and unending. Even without the coma inducing sugar intake.

At every turn. Akiha seemed to be there. So much so, that even when he wasn't there, Umeda had the paranoid notion that he was. Maybe that was his game. Or maybe he really was there, but the idea of Akiha devoting every spare moment of the day to stalking Umeda didn't seem to add up given the amount of work the man was getting done. It was still unnerving; Umeda was finding it difficult to distinguish when Akiha was following him and when he wasn't. It did effect his behaviour. He hadn't even tried to 'seduce' anyone for ages, for fear of interruption by Akiha. It seemed like a lost cause each time he considered it. Maybe _that_ was his game, to guard his chances with Umeda like a hound from hell.

Like with Ryouichi, Umeda couldn't find the way to say 'get away from me'. So he was here, again in his office, with Akiha, alone. The door was locked, curtains drawn, Akiha's mouth over his neck. _Damn,_ Umeda thought, thinking about Ashiya and the last time she'd seen the evidence. High collars till it was gone. But it never should have gotten there. He wasn't going to stop it though, practiced fingers and hands finding their places before he could stop himself. There was a warm glow he didn't find too often blooming with a fragrance that diverted all thought of the ramifications of being caught, and how annoyed or embarrassed he'd be by it. He wasn't sure which he would feel. He'd made such a show of trying to force Akiha away from him, that he was sure there'd be some embarrassment in being caught, if only because it'd make him look as though he were behaving like some junior high student, teasing the one they like just to get attention. If he weren't so busy, he'd have spent more time on how that thought indicated a degree of immaturity on his part.

He'd definitely be irritated because he was enjoying it. It'd gone to far to deny that.

"Oh," Akiha said, stopping and lifting his hand from Umeda's shoulder. "I have to go."

Umeda watched as Akiha's hands reached, a flash of light reflecting off of his watch as he retreated. It lit up the thought of 'what the hell are you thinking', in bright neon.

"I'm supposed to be meeting with someone to discuss a job," Akiha explained, as though it were okay just stop like that, which it wasn't. Watching Akiha rearrange himself and sling his bag over his shoulder, it occurred to Umeda that if he did something to stop Akiha from leaving, Akiha wouldn't complain. At all. Not a word, job be damned. It didn't seem healthy, knowing what he was worth to Akiha.

"Mm."

Umeda was very conscious that he was stuck in the position he'd been left in, incapable of resuming his normal movement. Like reaching for a cigarette, which would at least give him something to do with his hands and make him look perfectly capable of himself. At least he was standing.

"I'll see you later," Akiha said, flashing a sly grin.

"Right," Umeda answered stiffly, monosyllabic. Right? No, no he would _not_ see him later. If he were wise, he'd never see him again, but seeing as that would likely require a name change and a relocation and perhaps some government witness protection, that wouldn't be happening. Besides, Io would give him away (nearly literally) to Akiha. They got along too well, and she had ideas of how she'd prefer him to live his life. As though it were her business.

Akiha left him standing there alone. The first movement he made was to cover his face with his palm. He wasn't even sure how he'd let it happen; how it kept happening. Somehow, Akiha had wormed his way into his life, and threatened to make himself a permanent fixture. The worst part was that the idea of it wasn't so repulsive. He could live with it. Once Akiha had 'gotten' him, maybe some of the clinginess would stop. Or get worse. But what if once he was 'caught', things fell of quickly, or ended like they did with Ebi and they'd both wasted their time?

It was better to leave things as they were. New rules; Akiha didn't get to touch him, Akiha didn't get to force himself into his life anymore. Akiha didn't get to mean anything to him. When it came to Akiha though, Umeda could already tell that these little blockades on his actions might not suffice.

He reached for his lighter and slipped the cigarette out of the box.

* * *

Kujo again. The last thing he needed on his mind right now.

Though, to be fair, he actually did need some things straightened out. He wouldn't come without a reason. That he, Umeda, was the one he needed to come to was merely a pleasant coincidence for him.

"You enjoy this too much," Umeda muttered, pulling back the young man's muscled arm. The student. The brat.

"It feels good," he hummed out. It was the voice and breathing that told Umeda that he had his eyes closed. What was he thinking? Umeda knew what he shouldn't be thinking. It was because of Akiha. He was panicking; Akiha was getting too close. That didn't change what he shouldn't be thinking. Maybe if he thought enough of how he shouldn't be thinking it, this'd be over soon enough and he could go back to thinking in the safety of privacy, not opportunity. Damn karate idiot. Not that he was in a position to be calling names. And Kujo wasn't an idiot. Umeda withdrew his hand, brushing (accidentally? He couldn't tell) Kujo's shoulder blade as he did so.

"Sit up."

Ever obedient, Kujo smoothly sat erect, and tipped his head back expectantly. If the purpose weren't to be of the healing initiative, Umeda might have seized it harder to vent some frustration. However, he had in mind that if he injured the karate student, he'd only be back more often.

"Are you alright, sensei?" Kujo asked. "You seem more on edge than usual."

_Maybe if you weren't teasing me_, Umeda thought flatly.

"Yes, fine."

"I could wash your back for you if you like. We could go to the public baths."

_Oh yes, that'd be wonderful Kujo, why don't I just take you home with me after that?_ It was strange though. Kujo had never suggested that they go anywhere, and I didn't seem as though he honestly intended to do anything. There was Kadoma who the deputy captain always thought of; Umeda didn't see any reason for Kujo to sincerely be interested in anyone else. Was it possibly…merely honest concern? It was a strange proposal, but one that Kujo would have given to anyone in their dorm. Dorm one tradition. It didn't seem like such a bad idea.

"Sensei?"

But there were still rules.

"No, Kujo-san, but thank-you," Umeda finally answered.

"If you ever change your mind-"

"I won't."

"I didn't think so."

Kujo left, still with that spooky smile, but felt like less of a threat than he usually did. While that was relieving, Umeda was unnerved that someone like Akiha could be affecting him as much as he did. They were too different, he shouldn't feel any connection with him. But, he did.

He called Akiha soon after, and that night they went out. In the morning, they woke together, but Akiha had still not 'won' him. Umeda was not sure what he'd changed, if he'd changed anything at all.

* * *

Over the following days, things proceeded on much as they had; Akiha sensed that he hadn't won Umeda over, but even a fool would have guessed that. Umeda wondered if he'd done it as a test, to see if Akiha would go away things happened to be empty between them. If that'd been the plan, it had failed phenomenally. But it hadn't been an act of premeditation, he's only made an opportunity. He might have moments of conniving insensitivity, but he didn't plan out emotions. He broke the rules he hardly gave himself a chance to follow, and it'd ended just where he thought that it would.

Only it hadn't ended, because nothing had changed. Akiha was still waiting for him. How long would he wait?

Umeda took out a cigarette and leaned back in the seat of cramped vehicle, wind blowing by the opened window quickly enough to catch most of the smoke. He looked sidelong over to Akiha. How long would Akiha enjoy his company? He wasn't trying to get a measure. This wasn't something that he could apply a strategy to, and predicting an outcome demeaned what was already there. Trees flicked past quickly, thick and fading; autumn. It was only a street lined with trees; a residential area with more modern than traditional. What was it Akiha wanted exactly? To fall in love, to live together, have a home like one of these? Celluloid fairytales that Umeda had no interest in. He didn't think that Akiha wanted things like that though; Akiha didn't think that far ahead. He was just happy that they were in each other's presence.

_And if that doesn't last?_

Absently, Umeda reached over to Akiha's fingers and brushed overtop them with his own and let them fall. He wanted to. He meant to, for now.

That evening, Ryouichi called again. He didn't say no.


End file.
